We Are Both Right

Reflections on the Joy of Motherhood

The joy of motherhood

How on earth did I get so lucky?

I am a mother. A simple enough statement. Four little words. But the meaning behind them is immeasurable.

I am a nurse, a cook, a chauffeur, a therapist, a teacher, a party coordinator, an ATM. A personal shopper, a medic, a protector, a camp counselor,  a coach. A cruise director, a life organizer, a drill sergeant, a travel agent.

I am a mother.

Every once in a while someone will do a story on how much a mother is “worth,” that is if there was such a thing as being paid to be a mother, how much would it be. ($211,813 per year for me according to this site.)

But amazingly enough, for all I give my children, they give me more. Oh, so much more.

Because those four little words — I am a mother — means I get to be around three wonderfully, amazing children who fill my life with love and hope and endless happiness. No matter how bad or desperate things get on the “outside” — in other parts of my life, in the world at large — I have these three reset buttons waiting for me. Loving me. And needing me to love them.

First steps. Notes in a lunchbox. A baby falling asleep on my chest. Surprise parties. A big hit in a little league game. Preschool. Riding the subway. A hundred on a spelling test. First words. DisneyWorld. Baskets at basketball games. Science projects. Climbing the Rocky Mountains in a rainstorm. First note played on a trumpet. Pierced ears. First chorus concert. Scoring a soccer goal. Birthday parties. Handmade necklaces. Cards, cards and more cards. Coming home from the hospital. Moving into a new house. The smell of a baby after a bath. And “google” more, as my daughter A. would say.

And don’t get me wrong. Being a parent isn’t all songs and roses. Hardly. Many of my darkest moments — the ones that terrified me or angered me or made me feel the least proud were a direct result of being a parent. And even on the days when they drive me the craziest (and oddly enough, maybe it is on the days they drive me the craziest), those are seconds when I’m the most aware of a mother’s love, and its ability to transcend everything.

I am a mother. I am happy.


While technically we aren’t hosting a “Where We Meet Week,” in the interest of Mother’s Day, Suzanne and I have agreed to dedicate our posts this week to all things motherhood.